


Safe

by sootonthecarpet



Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows (2010)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2012-11-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 18:50:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sootonthecarpet/pseuds/sootonthecarpet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moran finds Moriarty after, and takes good care of him.</p><p>A direct continuance of http://archiveofourown.org/works/563605 , the last line of which I have included in the opening for context.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe

The third thing Moran thought upon discovering the empty balcony was "He'll never sing for me again." The first one was "I'll be alone," and the second was, "James."

The fourth thing Moran thought was that he needed to get down there. He had to find —

He had to find their bodies.

"It's not fair," he mumbled angrily. "It's not fair...!" He shut his eyes tightly. Three tears fell, one splashing onto the railing, before he could stop himself from crying. He took a few moments to get his breathing under control. There would be time to weep later. If there was _any_ sort of chance that the Professor had survived, he had to find him. If that other one had survived — he would negate that survival.

 

Moriarty was surprised with himself for surviving that. A vague, fuzzy sense of smugness was filtering in around the edges of the desperation and the terror and the cold. He had only been in the water for a little while, but it was quite long enough for his garments to become completely soaked through with water that was surely only the faintest hint of a degree above freezing. He crawled a few feet, then forced himself to stand. He was far too cold. He would die of it if he could not warm himself. His head hurt — he thought it might have been bleeding. Somehow he managed to gather enough wood to make a fire and wedge himself under a ledge that would shelter him from the worst of the wind. He broke the first three matches, but got the small sticks burning on the fourth. It took far too long for him to get the fire to a decent size. He couldn't feel several of his extremities. He thought that perhaps being covered in freezing, soaked fabric was probably worse than being covered in no fabric at all, and so he removed it, trying to spread it out so that it would dry.

Unless Moran found him, he would certainly not last more than a little while. He edged as close to the fire as possible and curled up tightly. He resolved not to fall asleep.

 

Moran was shouting curses by the time he had clambered down the path and then back up the edge of the river to find himself situated around the base of the waterfall. It had not been easy to manage while carrying several blankets. He began looking around frantically. There was quite a bit more snow falling, now, and it was making things difficult to see. He thought he discerned the faint glow of a fire, and he ran towards it as fast as he could manage on the icy ground. "Professor?!" he called, and received no response. He hoped that this was merely because the waterfall was drowning out the sound. He finally reached the fire, which appeared to be dying down. He dropped to his knees beside the man. "Professor," he prompted. There was no response. He laid a hand on Moriarty's arm.

"Oh, it is you... I feared I was hallucinating." Moriarty slumped in his direction. "Thank god you have found me. I would have hated to be found dead in this state."

Moran wrapped Moriarty in all of the blankets. "Professor, you're bleeding," he said. Everything seemed far too quiet and still.

"Am I... I thought I might be. Sebastian, you won't leave, will you...?"

Moran looked at the fire. "I've got to. We need more wood, or this fire won't last very long." He stood up, forcing himself to ignore Moriarty's unhappy sigh.

"Do not be gone for too long. If I am to freeze to death, I would rather you were here for it," he muttered. Moran nodded curtly and ran off again. He gathered a great deal of wood, trying for only the driest. He returned and carefully built the fire to a blaze. Moriarty shifted nearer to it with a small, grateful sigh.

Moran crouched next to him again and pulled off his jacket. He took out his pocket knife and cut several strips from the fabric. He wrapped them carefully around Moriarty's head. "How's your vision? Are you dizzy? Are your ears ringing?"

Moriarty blinked at him. "I am cold, not concussed, Sebastian." He paused. "I think. It is difficult to tell. At any rate, I do not think the wound will be putting my life in danger."

Moran did his best not to appear anywhere near as worried as he was. He shifted Moriarty's clothes nearer to the fire and moved close to Moriarty's side.

Moriarty closed his eyes, leaning towards him.

“It’ll be all right soon,” Moran promised. “I still have people who are completely loyal to us, and I have asked them to come looking for me if I did not return after a few hours.”

“You thought that you would find me…?”

“I did not think. I only hoped.” He swallowed and hugged Moriarty suddenly. 

Moriarty put a hand on his arm.

“I am in need of distractions,” the Professor murmured after a while. “Would you sing with me?”

Moran blinked.

“It is more pleasant than singing alone. Do you remember much Schubert, or shall we sing in English…?”

In the end, they wound up singing several songs from Don Giovanni instead.

They had always enjoyed Don Giovanni.

After a while, they grew tired and stopped singing. The two were then very silent, and hardly moved except when Moran had to manipulate the fire.

Eventually, Moran’s people did find them. The memories were all a blur to Moriarty from that point onwards, as the blood loss was beginning to become a serious issue. He did not entirely come to himself until perhaps a day later.

“Oh, you found a hotel,” he said quietly, watching the wooden ceiling. “Or, I suppose, I have merely succumbed to exposure and died.”

“It’s the first one,” Moran told him, taking his hand. “How are you feeling?” He asked worriedly.

“Much improved, although quite far from my usual condition.” He reached up and gingerly touched the bandages around his head. 

“I sewed you up myself,” Moran admitted. “I know a thing or two, and I was too panicked and hurried to fetch a doctor…”

“I hope you sanitized the thread appropriately.”

“Don’t worry. You’re not going to die under my care.”

“I had not anticipated it…” He closed his eyes tiredly.

Moran watched him for several long minutes.

“You should have something to drink,” he said finally. “I got you to have some water once or twice, but you were hardly responsive to me and I had to be careful that you did not choke.”

“Will you help me to sit? I am not sure that I can manage it alone—I feel exhausted.”

“You had been pushing yourself very hard even before you fell,” Moran pointed out. “I do not think that you had slept more than two hours any night since we left England.”

“Work demands my attention, Sebastian,” Moriarty whispered.

“And that _bastard_ comes along, fucks it up, and nearly kills you,” Moran growled. “Tell me you’re certain he’s dead.”

Moriarty looked up at him. “I am certain of nothing. It was far too cold and sudden… And terrifying.”

Moran squeezed his hand. “I’ll see if I can find you some soup, Professor,” he said quietly, leaving rage aside for later. Something in Moriarty seemed far too broken and soft.

“Is there any tea, Sebastian?” He asked.

“I think so.”

Moriarty tugged at his blankets, pulling them further up himself.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “And I am sorry that I failed.” 

“It wasn’t your fault,” said Moran.

“It is my fault that I did not succeed.”

Moran put a hand on his shoulder. “We both did all that was possible.”

He knew it was true, and he could not bear for his Professor to think otherwise.

James was the only person who had ever mattered.


End file.
